"Etherized upon a table"
Riding on the wave I thought something. I whispered it to myself. I was afraid that if the wave heared it, she would never talk to me again. I was confident though that if I had not whispered it to myself I would still know it. It was not poetry that was supposed to be read aloud; to me it was just a manifestation of some form of bonding; with the wave perhaps. So I continued.
I was washed ashore; smacked onto the black sands of a cold beach. The wave stood by me; looking into my eyes; she was furious, or perhaps it was a gesture of applause; a sarcasm; an irony.So, I tried to explain it to her, but she wouldnt seem to listen. When I tried hard, she reacted. She split into thousands of tiny wavelets. I was frightened. I tried to capture each of them into a tank. I wanted to bypass the superficial multiplications of her entity and hoped access to her as a unity. So I continued.
The sky looked down upon me as I were something important. A star split up; effulgently lightning up the sky with its gentle light. Somebody somewhere whispered something; i thought it was the sky. Red, orange, blue and green patterns of light scintillated a reflection into the wavelets of my wave. In the reflections I saw a shadow; among the ripples it took a shape of me. It was epiphanic. I realized that the boundaries of the wave, of myself, of the sky were just a metaphor.
I were the sky, the wave and myself.
3 comments:
(read slowly to yourself for best results) Gratification often underlimits acquired proficiency at the most nascent juncture...Yet refuted by many out and out, may indent an adequate impression on one's subconscious.
Damoslov Tsar'
it reminds me of a poem. it is in spanish, sung by my fav singer Mercedes Sosa (which you know). Let me share it with u. ask a friend to translate it :)
--
Alfonsina Y El Mar
Por la blanda arena
Que lame el mar
Su pequeña huella
No vuelve más
Un sendero solo
De pena y silencio llegó
Hasta el agua profunda
Un sendero solo
De penas mudas llegó
Hasta la espuma.
Sabe Dios qué angustia
Te acompañó
Qué dolores viejos
Calló tu voz
Para recostarte
Arrullada en el canto
De las caracolas marinas
La canción que canta
En el fondo oscuro del mar
La caracola.
Te vas Alfonsina
Con tu soledad
¿Qué poemas nuevos
Fuíste a buscar?
Una voz antigüa
De viento y de sal
Te requiebra el alma
Y la está llevando
Y te vas hacia allá
Como en sueños
Dormida, Alfonsina
Vestida de mar.
Cinco sirenitas
Te llevarán
Por caminos de algas
Y de coral
Y fosforescentes
Caballos marinos harán
Una ronda a tu lado
Y los habitantes
Del agua van a jugar
Pronto a tu lado.
Bájame la lámpara
Un poco más
Déjame que duerma
Nodriza, en paz
Y si llama él
No le digas nunca que estoy
Di que me he ido.
Te vas Alfonsina
Con tu soledad
¿Qué poemas nuevos
Fueste a buscar?
Una voz antigüa
De viento y de sal
Te requiebra el alma
Y la está llevando
Y te vas hacia allá
Como en sueños
Dormida, Alfonsina
Vestida de mar.
reminds me of something else - less dramatic but very cute that i want to share. there is a political satire cartoonist from Argentina who goes by the name of Quino. Not much on the Internet worth looking at, unfortunately. The name of the series is Mafalda, she is a 6-yr old girl with a very drtong caracter and she is surrounded by a group of friends who are all different, and all represent something or other in the world, and are used to make fun of something or other, as well.
One of her friends is Miguelito, who is proud taht his grandfather loved mussolini. Miguelito is a dreamer, a philosopher, and a little strange. He is in the city square, after a rainfall, and is looking at his reflection in a puddle of water. Enters Filipe, a rather conservative, timid and awkward boy, friend of Mafalda, with an oddly shaped head. He is a womanizer, too, and a bit dim. He asks Miguelito: What are you doing there?"
Miguelito looks up at his friend and says proudly and with certainty: I am engraving my image in this puddle, so that when it evaporates, it wil be carried all over the city.
Filipe takes a while to catch on, at first he things Miguelito is a moron.
Later that day, Filipe can be found staring at himself in a puddle by the sidewalk in front of his house.
Enter Mafalda, the main caracter. She is self assured and extremely bright, assertive, tough, sometimes mean but always brutally honest. She is very very concerned with the wellbeing of our planet, and the political situations such as polarization, privitization and the UN. She asks Filipe: What are you doing there?
Filipe looks up and says with so much pride: I am engraving
my image into this puddle so that when it evaporates, it will be carried all over the city.
At this point, a speeding car runs over the puddle in question and wets both children from head to toe.
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